Recently, life has been all the things I haven’t wanted to feel, write about, experience, blunder through. Life has been excessively hard. Life has been full of uncomfortable anniversary dates.

My life is a shrine to grief.

It has been almost 6 years since my marriage ended.

It’s been 3 years today since I had a seizure in my sleep that ended up being a severe panic attack. So that means it’s been 3 years since I pledged to take my life back into my own hands. I left a relationship, I lived in a travel trailer, I got a new teaching gig, I changed states, I bought a house on my own and gutted it. I’m exhausted just remembering it.

It’s been almost 2 years since Covid started killing people.

It’s been a year since cancer entered stage left.

It’s been 6 months since things ended with J, and it still makes me sad.

It’s the uncomfortable and honest truth that I am in pain.

Things are not easy right now. I keep myself busy with volunteering and work and occasional online dates, but my heart is heavy. I’m never going to be the person that avoids hard things and prefers toxic positivity. But real positivity would be pretty nice right now.

The liminal space is excruciatingly hard, but I know it’s where great growth lies.

I know this low, hollow pain isn’t forever.

I’m a baby at being a human humaning. I didn’t really start figuring out how to human until I was doing this life on my own and living alone. I have been growing and challenging myself constantly.

I am so tired.

So thank you for understanding that I haven’t been showing up here in this space to write my thoughts. I have been attempting to do self care and allowing myself to learn how to rest.